


In pursuit of a heart

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bakery, Dragons, M/M, Omnics, Prince Genji Shimada, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* based on a tumblr postThe Prince of the land announced a challenge -whoever will get the necklace from his pet dragon's neck will be the one he will marry.Zenyatta had just moved in, and did not expect to find a tiny dragon resting inside his new garden.





	In pursuit of a heart

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely lost the link of the post that gave me this idea because I read it like, over a month ago, saved it somewhere, did not label nor tag it, jotted a note to write genyatta for it then did not do so until today. Hope you still enjoy!
> 
> also
> 
> me: i cannot write more than 400 words without my thoughts scattering wtf  
also me: *writes 5k in one single sitting bcs i felt like starting this drabble*

**In pursuit of a heart**

The tiny, disgruntled dragon was perched on top of the wall, staring down at the street with such a look of sheer contempt that Zenyatta paused mid-step, tilting his head.

It was curled up in a corner, partially hidden by the tree that was growing right near the wall, and from the street one would not see it –but as Zenyatta was entering the premises of the house, he could see it pretty well.

“You seem displeased,” he found himself saying.

The noodle dragon jolted in surprise, arching up in panic, eyes wide, claws elongating in response to the sudden noise, and to Zenyatta, it looked like a scared cat.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, raising both hands as the dragon tensed, getting ready to run away. “I did not mean to surprise you. You do not have to leave!”

He had not known there were dragons in this city before he and his brother had decided to settle here, but the thought made a jolt of happiness ran through his circuits; during his travels he’d seen his fair share of mythical creatures, but never dragons, especially not tiny noodles like this one, with green iridescent scales and just as beautiful crimson eyes.

It was not feral either –there was a thin silver necklace around its neck, with a single ruby in the middle, the same colour as its eyes. Somewhere, this dragon had an owner, and one who could afford such lavish choice in collars.

Zenyatta remained where he was, not wanting to scare it off –dragons had varying degrees of intelligence, and he knew this little one could at least understand what he was saying by the way its ears flicked around, eyes never leaving him.

It was truly a beauty, and Zenyatta couldn’t help but admire its scales and the bared fangs.

Suspicious and still tense, the dragon did not settle down again, but he did not leave either, and Zenyatta counted that as a win.

“Forgive me,” Zenyatta repeated, and made a motion towards the house. “This is my new place of residence,” the dragon tilted its head to the side, but did not move. “You are free to stay where you are, I will not bother you. Where I come from, dragons are rare, so it brings me joy to see one has blessed the place I call home now.”

The dragon seemed startled, and Zenyatta chuckled to himself. “I am not sure how much you understand me, little one, but I am new to this city, and I have just arrived with my brother. We are travelling monks, seeking a permanent residence. If you were using this house as your resting place before, I do not wish to chase you out.”

He received a slow, perplexed blink back from the dragon, but it did not seem like it wanted to run away anymore, though Zenyatta could see it was still tense. He could understand the wariness, it must have been surprising to see someone in a previously unoccupied house.

With a casual –he hoped– parting nod, Zenyatta walked past the gate of the small garden and to the front door, careful not to look back at the dragon, acting like nothing was wrong. “Mondatta,” he called out, “I am home.”

Mondatta was not in the sitting room, and when he answered, his voice came from the closet. His brother had been busy cleaning and settling the few things they owner, so to make this place less empty and more like theirs. “Welcome back, my light. Was your walk enlightening?”

Zenyatta thought about the little dragon outside, then about the neighbours, kind and open to having a couple of omnic monks living nearby, and then he thought about the beautiful view of the river that he’d seen minutes earlier, and smiled to himself.

“Yes, it was.”

He would like living here.

***

Zenyatta was a people person –somewhat reserved yes, but he loved meeting people, humans and omnics and supernatural entities alike– and it took him little time to befriend the witch down the road and her girlfriend, who worked as a guard at the palace.

The palace was in perfect view from Zenyatta’s little house –it was big, and stylish, and rather old, but had a kind of austere beauty to it; the gardens surrounding it were probably the part Zenyatta liked the most, though he knew he would not get to see them up close, as they were private, but he liked to think there were many creatures and animals living there, free to roam across the gardens, well fed and happy.

(Zenyatta had always had a soft spot for animals, after all. Mondatta always said his knack for finding strays to feed was _unparalleled_.)

It was the happy couple, Angela and Fareeha, who told him about the prince for the first time, and the weird challenge he had announced to the public.

The Prince, Genji Shimada, was the last of a long line of rulers. His father had died by enemy hand, leaving the lands to his two sons. The older brother, Hanzo, had gained control of one half, the youngest, Genji, of the other. Genji had always been rather uninterested in the matters of heart, but being young, handsome and royalty, he had been coveted by many. Neighbouring royalties had asked for a political marriage, others had tried to woo or court him to gain control and power. Genji, feeling harassed and pressured by his own council, had retreated further into his castle, unwilling to meet with people if all they wanted to do was attempt to fool him for his name or his position of power. Cornered as he was, never leaving and never seen by his citizens, uncertain whether he would ever find someone he could like by himself, he’d ended up grasping for straws on how to make people stop this behaviour.

In a last attempt to take control of things, he had set up a challenge to all who would listen –the first person who could catch his pet dragon and take the necklace from its neck would be the one Genji would marry.

Many had arrived to the city in order to challenge the dragon, finally allowing Genji some respite, but it seemed the creature was as sneaky as a rogue and as fast as lightening, and had so far avoided being caught or trapped.

Zenyatta found the news baffling, though he understood the reasoning behind the act, but the idea that the prince had been so harassed that he’d decided to assign his own heart to a creature he owned was… incredibly sad.

No one should be forced to love someone else, after all.

It did bring him to realise that the dragon he’d met was, in fact, the prince’s pet, probably hiding from the thirsty hands of all his suitors. There was no other dragon in the city, after all.

Zenyatta did not think he would see the little dragon anymore –it would not feel safe now that it knew someone lived in the once-abandoned house, after all– and was thus surprised when, exiting the front door a couple days later, he found the dragon curled up in a corner of the garden, further away from view.

He hesitated only a moment before returning inside, grabbing some fruit from the pantry and exiting once again.

The dragon did not hear him come, and as such jolted up once more when Zenyatta hummed softly to attract its attention, back arched up in fear and anger and claws and teeth bared. “It seems like I am forever doomed to scare you, little friend.”

Zenyatta sat down, far enough from the dragon that it would not run away, and waited until recognition flashed past its crimson eyes.

“I thought you would like something to eat,” Zenyatta continued, and threw a strawberry at the dragon, mindful not to hit it. It rolled near his paw, red and enticing. “Perhaps you would enjoy some fruit?”

The dragon huffed, eyes narrowed, but he nosed the strawberry and then sniffed at it, nostrils flaring, seemingly perplexed at the offer; his crimson eyes glanced from it to Zenyatta, then back down.

“It is true I am an omnic, and as such I do not eat,” Zenyatta admitted, understanding its confusion, “but my brother has always kept a stack of food for me. I am, well. I tend to find strays everywhere I go, and it would not do to have nothing to feed them with, don’t you agree?”

A snort was his answer, and Zenyatta chuckled. “It is alright if you do not want it. The birds will eat it in your place, or it will simply become compost. It will not go to waste.”

He had expected the dragon to ignore his offering, but was pleasantly surprised when it gobbled down the strawberry instead, swallowing it whole and licking its muzzle with a long serpent’s tongue, then blinking lazily at him as if expecting more.

“You are a rather coddled dragon, are you not?” laughing at it, Zenyatta threw him a few more strawberries, then sent the apple rolling towards him as well, watching with amusement and satisfaction as the dragon ate everything with little happy noises, making the fruits disappear in little time. “I am sure the palace cooks feed you much better treats,” he said, and saw the way the dragon tensed. “Please, no need to be wary. I do not care about the prince, or his challenge. I am but a simple monk, and I would not wish to impose myself on the feelings of another person. The prince deserves to find his love like any other person.”

The dragon made a soft, chittery sound of agreement and settled down again, still wary but not as tense as before.

Zenyatta sighed and pressed his back against the nearby tree, optical receptors glancing up to the sky.

“Since you used this place to hide before I came, feel free to keep coming,” he said, aware the dragon was still looking at him. “Your company will be welcome, as I do not really know many people around here yet.”

When the dragon left, not too long afterwards, Zenyatta watched him go and hoped it would come back soon.

***

“I am rather glad we have found jobs here.”

Mondatta sounded happy, Zenyatta thought, and regarded his brother with a smile as they walked down the main street, headed towards the nearby mechanic. Mondatta had noticed Zenyatta walked stiffly, and had suggested for them to have a check-up, just to be sure, but Zenyatta was still somewhat reluctant.

“Is it to your liking, then?” Zenyatta hummed and linked his arm with Mondatta’s, tugging him closer. “I know you spend a lot of time gossiping with customers.”

“I do not gossip!” Mondatta made a strangled, embarrassed sound. “I simply enjoy listening to what the people at the hair salon say. It is fascinating.”

“And it has nothing to do with knowing the ins and outs of all the neighbourhood, right brother?”

“Absolutely _nothing_, no.” Mondatta tilted his head up, sounding affronted at Zenyatta’s teasing, but both knew that part of the allure of becoming a helper at the salon had been the gossip, though Mondatta called it something else.

To him, it was simply facts of life –knowing what others went through during their days, the joys and sorrows, allowed him to feel more like he was part of it all, to connect with people, and perhaps find people who would be helped by the Iris, as well.

Zenyatta called it gossip, though.

“And how is your work at the bakery, Zenyatta? Today was your first day, was it not?”

“Baking is fun,” he admitted, thinking about the flour, and the smell, and the warmth from the oven. “It is engaging, but soon I will be allowed to deal with customers. That should be enjoyable.”

“I am glad. I had… reservations about coming here.” Mondatta sighed, his happy countenance momentarily deflating. “We have fought hard to be seen as people, I would not have liked to live in a place that could reject us, and the Iris.”

“We were lucky.”

“That we were.”

Their moment of contemplation was interrupted by a flash of green dashing down the street. Zenyatta’s optical receptors whirred as they realised it was the dragon, running so fast its figure was blurred –and chasing it was a small group of people; one was a dryad, uncovered legs and arms looking like dry bark, two were men and one was a pretty girl Zenyatta had seen working at the flower shop.

“Come back, damn you!” one of the men grunted, already breathless. “I’ll be paid my weight in gold if I catch you!”

“Like hell I’ll let it be caught by the likes of you! The prince deserves someone like me!” the girl replied, glancing at him with a frown. “I will become the princess and marry him and I’ll have the life I’ve always wanted!”

The dragon hissed, without looking back, and as he passed by Zenyatta’s side, he glanced at him for a split second before continuing on.

Zenyatta watched him go, then the chasing people, then Mondatta.

“Ah, my poor legs do ache,” he said, in a tone of voice that carried out, and then stumbled a little towards the middle of the street, right in front of the incoming chasers. “I might have to rest for a moment.”

Mondatta startled, shoulders jolting upwards at that, but then his forehead array flared as he noticed the incoming crowd. “Oh, _Zenyatta_–”

“Hey, out of the way bots!” the man in front of the others lifted his fist at him, while the girl and the dryad jerked to the side to avoid them. “I’m on an important job here, get the fuck away from me!”

Zenyatta hummed and his fingers twitched –and the man promptly slammed into thin air, falling on his ass in front of Zenyatta, leaving him unharmed and untouched.

“You should look where you’re going,” Zenyatta told the winded man, voice light. “Stumbling and falling like this could be dangerous.”

The other man hesitated, staring first at the girl and the dryad, then at Zenyatta, then at the man on the ground, and lifted one hand in front of himself to test the air, finding nothing there to impede his passage, but as he hastened his pace again –he stumbled onto nothing, and fell on his knees with a curse and a hiss.

“Fuck–” both men grunted and stumbled to stand back up, while Zenyatta, not even looking at them, straightened his back.

“Forgive me, brother,” he said to Mondatta, tone light and cheerful. “My legs are fine, now. Perhaps that check-up might be necessary, then.”

Mondatta snorted, the sound so quiet no one else except Zenyatta heard him. “You would sit still long enough to let a mechanic do it, brother?”

“You wound me, Mondatta.” Zenyatta flashed him a smile. “I am perfectly capable of staying still.”

The men finally stood up, but they could not accuse the two omnics of anything; the street was full of people who barely blinked an eye at the sight of dragon pursuers, and they could not risk singling out someone if they had no proof.

If they stalled any longer, the dragon would be long gone.

With muttered curses and a glare at Zenyatta the two ran, disappearing behind a corner.

Mondatta waited until they were gone before turning at him, forehead array dim. “Will you explain what you are doing, my light?”

“I do not like the idea of someone being forced to marry, brother. It is not something I endorse.”

“The prince is old enough to make his own informed decision, Zenyatta.”

“It does not seem like it, if he allowed his chances to depend on catching a pet. If he was forced into it by others, it is not his fault he could not think rationally under pressure.”

“Alas, there is nothing we can do about it.”

Zenyatta thought about the little dragon and the way it had picked his house as a safe harbour, and hummed, deciding not to say anything to that.

If he decided to give the poor thing a sanctuary, well. None would be the wiser.

***

There was a customer at the bakery who was always there early in the morning, just before the bakery opened for the day.

He wore a hood to hide his hair, and a scarf covered the lower part of his face, so that only his eyes could be seen –and the first time Zenyatta saw them staring at him through the window of the bakery, he thought they were rather beautiful, brown so vivid it almost looked red.

The man favoured cinnamon rolls and pastries, fresh out of the oven and still warm, and Zenyatta had learned, after the first few days, to set some aside for him to buy.

It was amusing to see someone appear so aloof and reserved and then buy his weight in sweets, but Zenyatta did like the way people could still surprise him.

At first, he’d only ever speak to make his order, or to whisper a soft thank you before leaving, but as the days passed by, he had started to speak up more and more, until Zenyatta managed to have an actual conversation with him before the morning customers arrived and chased him away.

He seemed not to like crowds, which Zenyatta could understand, but he remained longer every morning, lingering in the bakery and keeping Zenyatta company while he cleaned and set the bread and sweets out to be seen.

they talked about baking, and working times, and on one memorable time, Zenyatta had been delighted to see him start a rant about a book he’d particularly liked but could not buy at the local bookstore, telling him the story with such colourful, enthusiastic words that Zenyatta made a note to himself to order a copy of the book from the nearby town.

Zenyatta had no idea what his name was, but he found himself slowly looking forwards to seeing the familiar hood appear every couple of days, not as much for the sales it secured to the bakery, but instead because his presence was intriguing, and their conversations stimulating and fun.

There was a streak of dry sarcasm in him that Zenyatta truly favoured, and the sound of his voice was low and pleasant, alluring.

“I baked these myself,” Zenyatta told him one day, pointing at some soft bread with apple and nuts. “I know you prefer sweeter things, but perhaps you would like to try it.”

The man tilted his head, and left him the impression that he was smiling underneath his mask. “Well, if you made them, they must be delicious.”

“Thank you. Your endorsement pleases me, even if you have yet to taste it,” he teased, but he was indeed happy to see him buy one loaf, ripping a piece off right there in the bakery, slipping down his scarf enough for him to pop it in his mouth.

Zenyatta’s optical receptors followed the motions, finding the lips hiding beneath the hood as fascinating as the man himself was, then startled himself out of staring and turned to shuffle around the bakery, surprised at his own boldness.

“It is truly delicious,” the man murmured, and Zenyatta couldn’t help but glance at him again, feeling weirdly flustered at the praise.

“Why, thank you.” To hide the bubbly satisfaction, Zenyatta turned around to get more bags from a higher shelf, and missed the way the man’s gaze remained steadily on him.

“Have you… ever thought about leaving?”

The question was so surprising Zenyatta paused mid-stretch, then turned around to stare. The man shuffled a little, and his hood slipped back an inch, revealing a tuft of black hair before he hastily tugged it back in.

“… leaving?”

“Yes. You are good enough at this that you could… I don’t know, perhaps open your own bakery?” he sounded awkward but curious, no malice in his tone.

The words startled a laugh out of him that neither expected, the sound filling the silence like a bell chiming.

“Your kindness is appreciated,” Zenyatta murmured, feeling warm inside, “but I do not think I am at that point yet… or ever. To be able to make something to rival this bakery would be nothing short than a miracle for someone like me. I never touched an oven before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It is pleasant, but it is not what I wish to do, either.”

“So…?”

“I am a monk. My intentions are to aid people. Perhaps, create a safe sanctuary where those in need of guidance can visit, and find help and counsel.”

“… you are good at that, yes.” It was said so quietly Zenyatta almost did not hear him, but it still made him smile.

“For now, I am not displeased with this job. It allows me to meet people, and learn about them, and in a way, make food that can bring some happiness in their lives. After all, food is not just comfort. Something small can always give people a boost, or make them feel happier simply because it tastes good.”

“… like this bread?” there was an impish smirk on the man’s lips as he popped another piece of it into his mouth, and Zenyatta’s optical receptors lingered on them for a moment longer than needed before he nodded.

“If it brings you joy, then I have done my job right, yes.”

“Maybe it’s not the bread that brings people joy,” the man murmured, just as he inched closer to the door, catching sight of some of the morning customers approaching the bakery. “Maybe it is just you, and the company you provide so freely.”

He left without looking back, shoulders hunched up in embarrassment and tugging his scarf back up to hide his face, and left behind an equally flustered Zenyatta, for once speechless at the kind compliment.

If he spent the rest of the shift humming happily to himself, a giddiness of sorts bubbling up inside his circuits, no one thought to point it out.

***

The dragon was already there, waiting for him, the moment Zenyatta stepped out of his front door, arms full of fruit.

It tapped its tail on the ground, almost like it was berating Zenyatta for being slow, and Zenyatta laughed, a happy content sound that made the dragon’s ears perk.

“You truly are a spoiled little thing, aren’t you?”

With a huff, the dragon slithered around him, almost bouncing as they made their way to the spot near the tree that the dragon so favoured before flopping down, and without waiting the dragon stole a bunch of grapes from Zenyatta’s arms and swallowed them down one after the other, making satisfied noises at the taste.

“Wait, you greedy little creature!” Zenyatta snatched the rest of the grapes and held them above the dragon’s head, just out of reach. “It’s almost like they don’t feed you at the palace, huh?” then he paused, contemplating another option. “Or did you have to run a lot, today?”

The dragon huffed, looking down with what could pass for a spiteful, annoyed look, and Zenyatta sighed, lowering his hand and dropping the grapes in front of it.

“I do not like it,” he admitted.

Five months since his arrival to the city, and the dragon had relaxed around him, becoming more and more daring with every visit, content with Zenyatta’s presence and with the fact that it would not be betrayed.

Five months of Zenyatta watching as strangers and familiar faces alike chased the dragon down across the city, wishing to get the necklace to marry the prince; every now and then, Zenyatta found himself wishing the dragon would disappear, never to return, even if that would make him sad.

Five months since he’d befriended the tiny creature, offering it a place to hide, and talking to it about anything and everything, from tales of his journeys to what he did every day at the bakery.

The dragon seemed to realise the mood had shifted, and looked up, confusion and surprise clear on its face.

“I wish I could do something to help the prince,” Zenyatta confessed. “This… this lack of choice… it bothers me.”

The dragon nosed his hand, rubbing its little head against his fingers almost as if wishing to cheer him up, and Zenyatta chuckled, petting it delicately.

“Thank you. You are so kind, wishing to offer comfort to me when it is your owner the one who needs it the most.” He sighed again, turmoil within his core, and looked away. The dragon nibbled on the rest of the grape, but kept tilting its head to look up at him, waiting. “I did not… have the best life, before meeting my brother.” Ears perking up, the dragon snuggled closer, looking up at him. “Omnics are not well regarded in smaller towns and villages, and even most cities we’ve visited have not been kind. Creatures have more rights than us, so it has always been… difficult. I was owned by people, before awakening, and they did not take kindly to my newborn soul. They wished for their tool to be quiet and silent as it took orders, and I… I wished to have something more. A choice.”

He continued to pet the dragon gently, absently as he thought about everything, the pang of worry for a person he’d never even met making his thoughts race.

“I was pressured into working for them still, even if they did not respect I was someone. I thought I was obligated to them, because they owned me, because they’d lost money from my awakening. I thought it would be all I was destined for, with nothing else except…” he hesitated for a moment then finished his thought, voice clipped “… slavery. Then, my brother came and helped me find a way out. It hasn’t been easy, even after that. They didn’t take it well, and did things I would not wish to justify if done to anyone else, even if I felt like I could since they did them to me, but… things got better. I was allowed to make decisions, to think for myself and find a life I would like more. And maybe it’s not much –but this house is mine, and my brother is by my side, and we might not have a lot, but… it’s enough. I am happy.”

The dragon made a soft, broken sound, and Zenyatta sighed, hand stilling.

“The prince might have treasures and he might live in a splendid palace, but to me it feels like he’s caged there. Like he does not know, just like I did, that he can choose to change this. Perhaps there are things that keep him here, chains that others placed on him, expectations he does not have to keep, even if he feels like he should. The heart is an important thing, and to know that there’s a chance someone will steal that from him, lock him further in that cage… I know how that feels. I wish I could help him be free, just like I am now.”

He closed his optical receptors and exhaled another artificial breath before he straightened his back, glancing down at the dragon. Its eyes were wide, staring at him in shock.

“Forgive me, little one. Whenever you are around I feel like I can talk about anything. Perhaps it makes me a bit selfish, since you will not be able to answer, to push all my worries and thoughts on you. I wonder if you understand all that I say, or if I have been talking to myself all along… either way, your company makes me happy. I am sure your prince feels the same, when you are with him.”

With a soft, rumbling chirrup, the dragon slid closer, hesitating before putting its head on Zenyatta’s lap, eyes closed, then–

Something fell on Zenyatta’s lap and he looked down, startled to see a small circlet of silver there.

The dragon’s neck was bare.

“… I–” Zenyatta’s hand shook as he touched the little necklace, shock lacing his thoughts and processes. “Oh, my friend, I could never accept this.”

His heart ached in sympathy, the idea that the dragon had understood him, that he’d listened and found him good enough for this… it was almost too much for him to believe.

The dragon nosed the necklace, pushing him closer to Zenyatta’s fingers.

“No, I cannot accept this. Even with your… ringing endorsement, my friend, I could never take what you offer. The Prince’s heart is his own, and I would never wish to force him to accept me. It would not be his choice.” The dragon made a soft, huffy noise of disagreement, and Zenyatta had to smile at it. “I hope he will find someone that makes his heart race,” Zenyatta hummed, a flutter of warmth in his core, “like I have.”

The dragon stilled, then blinked up at him. It looked so startled Zenyatta had to laugh.

“Forgive me, little friend. I have not been entirely honest with you, and it is silly I’ve kept this notion to myself, but… there is a customer who comes by the bakery a few times a week, early enough to be the first, and…” he hesitated, embarrassed at the confession. “I know he might not feel the same, and that it might not end the way I wish it could, but… I would like to know more about this mysterious person, and it would not be fair to the prince or myself, if I were to chain him to me when my thoughts stray towards someone else.”

Slowly, the dragon moved away from him, and Zenyatta felt a pang of regret, afraid he’d pushed his friend away with his refusal.

Rather than run away, though, the dragon watched him for a few seconds, assessing him, and Zenyatta gently offered him the necklace. “You can take this back,” he told him.

The dragon shook his head, and then–

Zenyatta felt the tingle of magic in the air, and the dragon started to grow all of sudden, green light surrounding him. He grew, and his form changed, and not even a second later, kneeling in front of him was not the dragon Zenyatta had grown to think as his friend but a man with black hair and deep, almost crimson eyes, staring at him with a look so open and raw and _familiar_ that it made Zenyatta ache inside.

“I would not take that back,” the dragon –no, the _man_ said, and his voice was also familiar, enough that Zenyatta jolted, shock washing over him. “I think you have the right of it.”

He smiled then, an impish grin that would have stolen Zenyatta’s breath, if he had any.

“My name is Genji,” he said, just after that. “I am sorry for deceiving you for this long, it was not my intention. At first, I simply wished to see if you truly were honest about not wanting to chase the dragon for its necklace, and then…” a flush spread across the bridge of his nose, and his grin turned sheepish. “And then I found I liked your company, and wished to know about you even more.”

“You are…” Zenyatta’s voice wavered, and he placed one hand on his core. “You _are_ the morning customer.”

And he had enough time to feel embarrassed about his thoughtless confession before Genji answered, “I am.”

“And you are the dragon I befriended.”

“Yes.”

“… and you are the prince.”

“… yeah, that also, yes.”

“I…”

Words rushed out of Genji’s mouth before Zenyatta could finish his thought, “I wasn’t lying about thinking your company is what brings me joy, rather than just your bread. I looked forwards to the time spent together with you –both as a human and… as a dragon.”

“Genjii–”

“You are right in that I felt caged –I couldn’t even leave the palace without people coming to me, but I hid and I came early enough that I could see you, and speak with you, and I… I had fun. I could be myself, even if you didn’t know who I was. It felt like a secret we shared, though… you did not know of it.”

Zenyatta’s core _ached_.

“And I do think that necklace could go to no one else but you.” And there, the flush deepened. “Am I wrong in thinking you would not be displeased now?”

The laughter that left Zenyatta’s synth was unexpected and loud, and Genji’s blush spread down to his neck.

“I guess you are right,” Zenyatta murmured, fingers touching the delicate silver necklace. “If that is your choice.”

He looked up and met Genji’s earnest stare, his eyes burning with something deep and determined.

“It is.”

“Then I guess… I might have just caught myself a prince.”

The blinding smile he received back made Zenyatta’s soul sing.


End file.
